Jessica Taylor Bellamy is a multidisciplinary artist working in painting, sculpture, and video exploring themes of utopia><dystopia, human><nature, fantasy><reality image ><text and the collapsing of time. A native Angeleno, born and raised in Whittier to an Ashkenazi Jewish mother and an Afro-Cuban father, Bellamy’s practice considers this particular familial history to address notions of home, homeland, and landscape. The artist’s work is rooted in her observations living at the edge of a precarious paradise of shifting ecological tensions.

Jessica Taylor Bellamy (b. 1992, Whittier, CA) received an MFA from the Roski School of Art at the University of Southern California in 2022 and a BA in political science from the University of Southern California in 2014. A recent solo exhibition Endnotes for Sunshine marked her debut with representing gallery Anat Ebgi. Bellamy’s work has also been featured in exhibitions with UTA Artist Space, Los Angeles, CA; GRIMM, New York, NY; Charlie James Gallery, Los Angeles, CA; Make Room LA, Los Angeles, CA; Superposition Gallery hosted at Ochi Aux, Los Angeles, CA; and Lyles and King Gallery, New York, NY. Bellamy lives and works in Los Angeles, CA.

How does the LA landscape work its way into your paintings? 

My work is rooted in my observations of living at the edge of a precarious paradise (i.e., LA)  of shifting ecological tensions. I think a lot about light – light in itself is a subject that I think Angelenos are endlessly talking about and I think a lot about the way that I move through a city, whether on foot or behind the wheel – as an observer and recorder. Even if the scenes I capture may seem ordinary to some, they form the foundation of my work, serving as a starting point for my imagination. These observations influence my work through the use of color or by incorporating physical elements such as texture, integrating them into my paintings through techniques like silkscreening or by utilizing items like tires, fenders, or fences. I already have plans to create a piece based on a photo of one of those Cat vehicles used for construction, scooping up fallen palm fronds. I’ve isolated this image and intend to work with it as a silk screen.

How do tools play a role in your practice? 

I’ve been thinking a lot about the tools that artists use and how they can have symbolic significance. I came across a photo essay by Walker Evans called “Beauties of the Common Tool,” and it got me thinking about finding beauty and intrigue in everyday items. His innovative depictions made me consider feminism, the environment, and the idea of trying to fix things, from the most literal or surface level to voting rights. Just like I use newspapers and everyday objects in my work, I see potential in using tools in a similar way. I want to bring these tools into my fantasy world, already imbued with meaning, and further transform them in paint into surreal objects that tell a story in my work. Literally, these tools also represent trial and error, mastery, and immatureness as I navigate trying to be able to do it as an artist with limited resources and a can-do attitude. 

What does the interweaving of text and images symbolize in your paintings?  

The way I approach my work depends on whether I want to convey a specific message or evoke a particular emotion. Sometimes, I aim for clarity with clear headlines and easy recognition of the subject. Other times, I focus on conveying feelings, like when I delve into topics such as global temperature trends, stories about plastic pollution, and other concerning issues like PFOS contamination in water. I’ve always been drawn to artists who explore text in their work, such as James Rosenquist, Ed Ruscha, and Andy Warhol. I’m particularly interested in signs and how they change over time, whether it’s a billboard being overtaken by nature or the effects of decay on urban environments. Living in a place like Los Angeles, where the strong sun causes constant decay and bleaching of colors, has definitely influenced my art.

Before I start painting, I like to experiment with composition. I use silkscreen techniques, and even when I’m not depicting literal text, the process of pushing paint through a screen itself conveys a message. This contrasts with the act of painting with a brush, and it’s important for me to infuse my work with meaning, although I don’t always want the meaning to be immediately obvious. This is why I sometimes add silk screens that obscure parts of the painting that I’ve painstakingly worked on. This reflects our different relationships with text and visual art. I’ve worked with Spanish newspapers, finding beauty in the accidental decay of signs and the nuances of language, as well as in the changes to printed material and the environment over time in a city like Los Angeles, which has personal significance for me due to my family’s history with immigration and relocation.

How does your cultural background influence your artwork? 

I grew up in Whittier, California, which is part of the greater Los Angeles area. My dad is Afro-Cuban and came to the country when he was 11. He also moved to Inglewood, Los Angeles. My mom is a true LA lady who has lived in LA her whole life. Her mother moved to LA at a very young age from Iowa, so everyone in my family has converged here. That’s become a big part of my identity. I feel very connected to the city, but it’s so vast that it can never be fully explored or understood in one way. I think a lot of my work is about trying to look at the city from the perspective of someone who’s grown up here and has a multicultural identity, being mixed and Afro-Cuban and Black and white and Jewish. It just means that I’m an Angeleno, after all.

I grew up with people who would not have considered themselves artists. Looking back, so much of my curiosity for materials and appreciation came from my maternal grandfather. As soon as I could walk and talk, I would be in his workshop and tinker with copper, make kaleidoscopes, and work on little projects together. My mother has worked with ceramics for years, although not professionally, and I have benefited from her because all of my kitchenware is made by her. My dad has made his entire living with his hands as a construction worker, so there’s an appreciation for material and craft there.

What is your creative process in producing work? 

I have so many years of references and notes for works that I’d like to make. So there are videos, photos, clippings, tools, receipts, airline tickets, and my birth control photos. Many videos I’ve shot whose stills can become a painting or parts of that can be isolated for a silk screen. So each mode of collection can feed into the other. 

I have more ideas than I can get to in a year, probably in a lifetime. So having these rich rolodexes of things I am interested in that I’m constantly adding to, I am never going to run out of things to work on.

I spend a significant amount of time on compositions before my brush hits the canvas. one because I love building reference images to paint and two because I’m working with silk screens at some point in the traditional painting process. Once I decide on composition and size I usually start with an underpainting, never going directly into color.

And I think that way of collecting and combining early in the process, helps me figure out what then is going to be the silk screen and what then is going to be the painting. I’ve done paintings where I’ve worked for months on them and then pulled a print in a matter of seconds and it’s been not right. It doesn’t mean that planning makes everything work perfectly, but to a degree, things have to be planned for me to enjoy letting go or losing control later in the process.

Good things take time as an oil painter because I do oil paintings. I’m the biggest believer in oil paintings. Letting go happens a lot later. For my videos, I’m using oil paint on glass. It’s information on top of the videos that I shoot. So it’s like putting that screen or that window or some barrier on top.

Who is somebody currently living that you have the most respect for in the world?

Emily Mae Smith. I’ve been following her career for at least ten years now. Hearing her talk about her process, she seems like someone that I can learn a lot from. I tend to revisit her work and videos where she speaks about paintings often. I’ve yet to see a solo show of hers in person. I’ve only seen her work at fairs and online. She works on such different scales and she created talismans and motifs that are uniquely hers but full of allusions that speak to the history of painting with humor and works that reference each other.

Is there an institutional collection that would be meaningful for you to be in?

This is a hard choice, so I won’t choose! LACMA or the Hammer Museum. I recently visited LACMA for Ed Ruscha’s show and walk-through. LACMA holds a special place in my heart as it was my earliest museum experience with my mom. The Hammer Museum is also dear to me because I was an intern and then a longtime volunteer. As a westsider, I have spent many hours in that courtyard.

Describe what an ideal public or private space would look like for your artwork.

I just had my first public video art display on Sunset Blvd, and it was amazing. I am thinking about a project in which the brushstroke or bitmap is enlarged and brought to life in a fun way. I would love to create an art installation that merges design with unconventional objects, incorporating the subject matter of my paintings into real-life spaces.

What part of the art ecosystem excites you the most for the future of your practice?

I have started my first residency and I’m already thinking differently about how to work with the ideas and materials that I’m already interested in. I’m also excited that I’m continuing to blend the painting with the video and sculptural work and encountering more people who are encouraging and excited by the scope of my practice.

What are you looking forward to experiencing more at your residency at Fountainhead in Miami?

Primarily, I’m looking forward to seeing how I will use the spare time that I’ve never had, time that is usually reserved for the responsibilities that one has in their city and home (pets, friends, family, watering the garden, going to friends art shows, being there for others) – I’ve been working out with the other residents here, we’ve been going on walks together, cooking together. This is a rare and special time of living with other women again and an incredible chance to form roots in a place where so many intelligent people are working in the arts.